Read Online Badass: Deadly Target (Complete): Military Romantic Suspense by Leslie Johnson, Elle Dawson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Leslie Johnson, Elle Dawson
Ads: Link
together we lift the lid of what is surely Pandora’s Box.
Chapter 9 – Jax
Russian.
Fuck.
The damn documents are written in Russian.
I speak Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, German and Arabic. But Russian, not so much. A few words jump off the paper that I recognize.
Аэропорт is airport.
Доставка means delivery.
Разум is mind, I think.
Синтетический is synthetic I feel sure, remembering the word from a list of synthetic drugs being shipped around the world not long ago.
Миллиграмм is milligrams. I remember from that same bust.
Is this a recipe? I scan the paper again.
Ед. Изм is unit.
I turn the page, and freeze. There’s a world map of airports, all forty-four thousand of them, it looks like. The next page has the airports broken down by country. The next page lists the airports located in large cities.
Included in the documents is the diagram of a bag. Младенец, it says at the top. Infant? I’m not sure. Мешок means bag, I know.
“Why would there be a diaper bag in all this stuff?” Mia asks and it clicks. Yes, diaper bag. The diagram is a black and white sketch, so no ducks and bunny shit on the side to further indicate its purpose.
I stare at the papers, trying to make everything make sense. In the back of my mind, I was expecting some type of weapons plans, maybe instructions on creating weaponized plutonium. But this … what the fuck does a diaper bag have to do with national security?
“What does this mean?” I ask, and I scan her face, looking for duplicity. There’s none there, just wide eyed curiosity and large doses of fear.
“I don’t know. This is written in Russian, Mia. The place your mother wanted you to go.”
Mia stares up at me, as if looking at my face will bring her the answers she’s seeking. Her gray eyes are huge, and grow glassy as they brim with tears. When her chin quivers, I wrap an arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, her face pressing into my shirt, her rapid breath hot against my skin.
“This is bad, isn’t it?”
I nod and realize she can’t see the gesture. “Yes. It’s bad.”
She begins to cry, her entire body quaking under the intensity of her sobs. Her fingers dig into my skin, as if trying to sink into me, seeking some type of stability that will hold her steady in this whirlwind that has become her life.
Even as I stroke her back, her hair. Even as I hold her tighter and pull her onto my lap so that I can hold her closer, I know my actions are foolish. This woman’s mother has been hiding unknown, yet clearly top-secret level information and God only knows what she’d planned to do with it. Sell it to America? Russia? China? The highest bidder?
I shake my head. That doesn’t make sense either. Why steal Russian documents then ask her daughter to take them back to that same country? She must know that would be a death sentence.
If Mia is telling the truth.
I continue to hold her even as I process the possibilities. Yes, Mia looks, sounds, and acts innocent, which is Spy 101. The best spies are the best actors. Their abilities to pass lie detection ingrained. To have a beautiful, innocent looking spy on the payroll would be very beneficial to any country. I look down at the documents again. To carry a fucking diaper bag? Are they using a baby as a mule? An ordinary looking family to carry out whatever the rest of this is?
How am I supposed to believe anything she says or does now? Everything she does from this point forward will take on new meaning.
“I just don’t understand,” she whispers, staring into the box. She lifts additional papers to find money, both dollars and rubles. I thumb through the stack of one hundred dollar bills. The stack is a little over two inches thick, so probably fifty thousand or so. There are also four stacks of rubles. Beneath that, a stack of ten-thousand dollar bonds. Shit. I look beneath the bonds and find a key as well as another address
Chapter 9 – Jax
Russian.
Fuck.
The damn documents are written in Russian.
I speak Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, German and Arabic. But Russian, not so much. A few words jump off the paper that I recognize.
Аэропорт is airport.
Доставка means delivery.
Разум is mind, I think.
Синтетический is synthetic I feel sure, remembering the word from a list of synthetic drugs being shipped around the world not long ago.
Миллиграмм is milligrams. I remember from that same bust.
Is this a recipe? I scan the paper again.
Ед. Изм is unit.
I turn the page, and freeze. There’s a world map of airports, all forty-four thousand of them, it looks like. The next page has the airports broken down by country. The next page lists the airports located in large cities.
Included in the documents is the diagram of a bag. Младенец, it says at the top. Infant? I’m not sure. Мешок means bag, I know.
“Why would there be a diaper bag in all this stuff?” Mia asks and it clicks. Yes, diaper bag. The diagram is a black and white sketch, so no ducks and bunny shit on the side to further indicate its purpose.
I stare at the papers, trying to make everything make sense. In the back of my mind, I was expecting some type of weapons plans, maybe instructions on creating weaponized plutonium. But this … what the fuck does a diaper bag have to do with national security?
“What does this mean?” I ask, and I scan her face, looking for duplicity. There’s none there, just wide eyed curiosity and large doses of fear.
“I don’t know. This is written in Russian, Mia. The place your mother wanted you to go.”
Mia stares up at me, as if looking at my face will bring her the answers she’s seeking. Her gray eyes are huge, and grow glassy as they brim with tears. When her chin quivers, I wrap an arm around her shoulders. She leans into me, her face pressing into my shirt, her rapid breath hot against my skin.
“This is bad, isn’t it?”
I nod and realize she can’t see the gesture. “Yes. It’s bad.”
She begins to cry, her entire body quaking under the intensity of her sobs. Her fingers dig into my skin, as if trying to sink into me, seeking some type of stability that will hold her steady in this whirlwind that has become her life.
Even as I stroke her back, her hair. Even as I hold her tighter and pull her onto my lap so that I can hold her closer, I know my actions are foolish. This woman’s mother has been hiding unknown, yet clearly top-secret level information and God only knows what she’d planned to do with it. Sell it to America? Russia? China? The highest bidder?
I shake my head. That doesn’t make sense either. Why steal Russian documents then ask her daughter to take them back to that same country? She must know that would be a death sentence.
If Mia is telling the truth.
I continue to hold her even as I process the possibilities. Yes, Mia looks, sounds, and acts innocent, which is Spy 101. The best spies are the best actors. Their abilities to pass lie detection ingrained. To have a beautiful, innocent looking spy on the payroll would be very beneficial to any country. I look down at the documents again. To carry a fucking diaper bag? Are they using a baby as a mule? An ordinary looking family to carry out whatever the rest of this is?
How am I supposed to believe anything she says or does now? Everything she does from this point forward will take on new meaning.
“I just don’t understand,” she whispers, staring into the box. She lifts additional papers to find money, both dollars and rubles. I thumb through the stack of one hundred dollar bills. The stack is a little over two inches thick, so probably fifty thousand or so. There are also four stacks of rubles. Beneath that, a stack of ten-thousand dollar bonds. Shit. I look beneath the bonds and find a key as well as another address
Similar Books
